


We are mountains meant to crumble

by angededesespoir



Series: Tumblr Prompt Memes [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Brief Alcohol Mention, Canon-Typical Body Horror, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, Murder Implied, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, brief drug mention, pnigophobia tw kinda, soul consumption implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-07 12:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10360620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: [Ch. 1]  Jack tries to comfort Gabe after a rough mission.[Ch. 2] Set during the aftermath of the King's Row Uprising. Gabe comforting an Anxious Jack.[Ch. 3]  Post-Fall.  A bad pain day.





	1. Worried/Repressed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrs_Nicole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Nicole/gifts).



> _Request from the[Hurt Meme](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/158452087040/hurt-meme): "It's ok to hurt and breakdown. You don't have to be strong all the time." + Reaper76._
> 
>  
> 
> _I’m gonna do one w/ Gabe comforting Jack, too, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to get around to it. I'll add it as a second chapter to this when I do._
> 
> _(Also posted on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/158568954475/its-ok-to-hurt-and-breakdown-you-dont-have-to).)_

The door slams loudly shut and Jack flinches as he jerks his head up.

Gabe’s leaning against the door to his office, slumping forward, his gloved hand rubbing wearily at his face. Dried blood covers his clothes and chestplate; flecks of it are still splattered on his face. 

Jack sets his tablet down, quickly jumping up and moving towards him, worry flooding his system.

“Gabe.....”

There’s a quiet, exhausted sound in response. Nothing more.

He frantically, but carefully checks for wounds, removing the chest plate. To his relief, the worst of the injuries appear to be minor lacerations, all of which were no longer bleeding. 

And while he’s glad, the amount of blood on his clothing has him concerned. Just how many people did he have to kill this time? How many men did he lose? How bad had it been?

He grasps his husband’s head in his hands, tilting it up so the man looks at him.

“Gabe, are you okay?”

A hand reaches up to cup one of his own. 

“You worry too much.”

There is no smile, no teasing names. Just a look of pure exhaustion and something else that he can’t quite put a name to, but he _knows_. He can feel it deep down and it makes his heart ache.

He takes his hands away, Gabe’s hand weakly dropping to his side. He pulls the man close, holding him firmly, but trying not to press too hard. Not until he has time to properly check for any more injuries.

Gabriel doesn’t protest. He allows himself to sink into the warmth of the embrace, though it only partially reaches him. He still feels miles away.

He vaguely feels Jack’s hand rubbing his back in what registers as a soothing manner. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, buries his head in husband’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to think right now, doesn’t want to remember.

“What can I do?”

“There's nothing you can do now,” Gabe mumbles, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” The words are whispered in his ear as he’s pulled closer. “I’m sorry. I should have been there. I should have been by your side.”. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, tries to keep his voice steady. “It would have changed nothing.” 

He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge how draining this job can be. That lately he has spent more time apart from Jack than with him. He doesn’t want to think about how heavily this job weighs on him, how the blood can never be washed away, how he can never find rest.

Most of all, he doesn’t want to burden Jack. He knows the man carries more burdens than he can bear- and in the spotlight no less. 

He clenches and unclenches the fabric of Jack’s jacket in his hand and he feels Jack’s own hand continue its’ gentle ministrations. He swallows, again, his throat and chest uncomfortably tight. 

He has the sudden urge to flee, but he forces himself not to push the man away. He tightens his grip on the jacket and feels Jack awkwardly quirk his head to kiss the side of his own.

“Gabe, mi sol, you know that it's okay to hurt and breakdown. You don't have to be strong all the time.” There’s another soft kiss. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.” 

It takes him a few seconds to reply as he tries to keep himself together. 

“We don't have time to breakdown, Jack. We’re leaders.” 

“We may be leaders, but we’re only human, Gabe. You can’t leave this all pent up.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jack gives a weak smile, pulling away, out of the embrace. “I know. I know it’s hard. But I have your back, Gabe.” He gently kisses his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jack suddenly pulls away walking over to the light and flicking it off. He moves back to Gabe, taking his hand.

“Let's turn in for the night. The reports can wait until tomorrow.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen and for a second he’s almost smiling. 

“Jack Morrison putting off paperwork? Call the press!” 

Jack chuckles, slinging his arm around him and pulling him close. He kisses his cheek. 

“I meant what I said, Gabe. I’m here for you. We’re going to get you cleaned up and then we’ll rest. And then, when you’re ready, we’ll talk.”

Jack feels his husband lean into him. “What did I do to deserve you, Jackie?”

He smiles. “I wonder what I did to deserve you, too.”

“Te amaré para siempre, mi luna. ”

“Siempre te amaré también, querido.”

They walk together in silence, back to their shared room. 

For now they have eachother. Everything else can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I.....unfortunately don't know Spanish (yet). [Maybe one day I'll learn.] Hopefully there are no mistakes. ^^;_
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Mi Sol= My Sun  
> Te amaré para siempre, mi luna. = I will love you forever, my moon.  
> Siempre te amaré también, querido.= I will always love you, too, dear.


	2. Anxious/Stressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the aftermath of the King's Row Uprising. Gabe comforting an Anxious Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Continuing w/ the same Prompt: "It's ok to hurt and breakdown. You don't have to be strong all the time."_
> 
> _It's venting time, friends! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ_
> 
> _(Also posted on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/159914057350/we-are-mountains-meant-to-crumble-ch-2).)_

He enters the office to find the Strike-Commander pacing rapidly, tablet clutched in hand, breathing a little too fast, a little too unsteady.

He approaches the man cautiously. “Jack.”

Jack jerks his head up, startled. He stops where he is, gazing in Gabriel’s direction, mind working to process what he sees. 

He swallows.

“Hey,” Jack finally replies, trying to look composed, though there’s still a hitch to his breath, a tremor to his limbs. “What did you need, Gabe?”

Gabriel steps closer until he stands within a foot of his husband, looking him in the eyes. 

“Breathe,” he says calmly. “You need to focus on breathing in and out, deeply and slowly. I know it’s hard, but please try for me.”

Jack nods, averting his eyes as he sucks in another breath. Gabe waits. There’s a shuddering in some of the breaths, surges of panic he knows Jack is trying to contain. 

“You’re doing fine, Jackie. Keep breathing.” 

It’s several minutes before his breathing and heart rate return to what passes as normal, Gabe with him all the while, guiding him back down. His legs feel weak, hands shaky. He thinks he should be used to this by now, but the sensation has the panic bubbling again.

“Do you need to sit down?”

He nods and Gabe drag his desk chair over. Jack sinks into it and looks up at his husband. “Thank you.”

Gabe nods.. 

“I came to see how you’re doing. The situation’s a mess, as to be expected.”

Jack let’s out a weak laugh, all nerves and exhaustion. “Tell me about it. Gabe, we’re in even more hot water now. They’re threatening to further reduce funding. Several governments are looking to cut ties with us, which will no doubt encourage others to do the same, causing a global-wide problem on how we will carry out future missions. The Prime Minister’s still in an uproar. The media’s in a frenzy. Half the stuff they’re saying isn’t even true. And if the U.N. learns of Jesse’s involvement-”

“They won’t.”

“But if they do, it’s going to be more ammo against Blackwatch, against you.”

Gabe shrugs. “If it comes to that, so be it. I can handle whatever they throw at me.”

Jack sighs heavily, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I know you can. I don’t doubt that. But you shouldn’t have to. You’re just doing your job. You don’t deserve what they’re saying about you and your men and…and I’m not sure how to make them stop.”

Jack looks down, focusing on his hands, one rubbing a slow, rhythmic circle on the other. 

“I feel like I’m failing you. Like I haven’t lived up to your expectations and... that every day I’m letting you down more. I don’t know what to do, Gabe.”

There’s a crack to Jack’s voice that makes Gabe’s heart ache. He gets on his knees so he’s more level with the man, scoots in close, and rests a hand on one of Jack's thighs. His partner doesn’t flinch or fidget at the touch, and he takes this as a good sign. 

“Jackie,” he says gently, “you haven’t failed me. Do you handle things differently than I do? Yes. But that doesn’t mean that you’re doing badly or letting me down. On the contrary, with everything going on, I think you’re managing pretty well.”

“Listen,” Gabe says, as he soothingly rubs circles on Jack’s thigh. “I know that you’re under a lot of stress. I know that you haven’t been taking care of yourself -and don’t you _dare_ try to deny it.”

Jack bows his head and grumbles something he can’t quite make out. He squeezes the man’s leg gently and continues.

“I also know that you keep taking on more than you can bear, and not always by choice- though heaven knows that you would still choose to do it no matter what. That’s just how you are.”

There’s a weak smile on Jack’s face. He can’t deny the truth of Gabe’s words. He would do anything to make the world a better place.

“I want to remind you,” Gabe continues, “that it’s ok to hurt and breakdown. You don’t have to be strong all the time, Jackie. Don’t let others convince you otherwise. You are only human, and you are only one man.” 

He leans up to kiss Jack’s cheek. “I’m here for you, my bluebell, and so is the rest of our family. Just like you’re always here for us. You don’t have to bear this alone.”

“I-I know.” Jack’s voice shakes, his eyes blinking rapidly as his hand reaches up to rub at one of his eyes. “I appreciate it,” he manages, throat tight.

Gabe pulls him into an embrace and Jack allows it, arms curving around him as he buries his face in his love’s shoulder, tears beginning to fall.

Gabe holds him close, rubbing at his back. “It’s okay. Let it out. I got you.”

He presses another kiss to a tear-streaked cheek, another drop sliding down to meet his lips. 

“We’re going to sort this whole mess out, Jackie. Together. Don’t worry.”

_And if only it were that simple....._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Okay, last chapter is going to be present-day Reaper & Soldier: 76._


	3. Pain/Vulnerbility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Fall. A bad pain day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Continuing w/ the same Prompt: “It’s ok to hurt and breakdown. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”_
> 
> _Oh, boy. I’m really sorry this took so long. This has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since about May and tbh I forgot about it for a few months and by the time I remembered it, I was too filled with anxiety and insecurity to continue writing. But, uh, I finally motivated myself to finish this. Hallelujah._
> 
> _(Also on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/172303493460/we-are-mountains-meant-to-crumble-ch-3).)_
> 
> _[P.S. I'm horrible at rating stuff, so I bumped this from a T to an M just in case._

The squeal of the door hinges breaks through the silence as Jack enters the room.  By the lack of response, he can already tell it’s a bad day.  

As he limps into the room, his suspicions are confirmed.  A smoky form is sprawled over the bed, restlessly furling and unfurling.

As he approaches, there’s a growl that quickly turns to a groan.

“Easy,” he says, trying not to betray the flurry of emotions he feels at the sight.  “It’s just me.”  


He doesn’t get an answer.  Not that he was expecting one.  Even on their better days communication was rarely their strong suit.  It was something to work on

Jack turns away, places the rifle in the corner, and sets to work on pealing off the blood-spattered jacket and gloves.  There’s nowhere to put them, so he lets them fall into a pile on the floor.  They won’t be there long, anyway.  He’ll clean them once he can get his partner to rest, and then he’ll set out again. 

He bends to remove his boots and holds in a hiss of pain as his back spasms. It’s not long before the weight bearing on his bad knee starts to become too much, his leg straining, trembling. 

If it was one of Reaper’s better days, Jack knows he would tease him, call him an old man.  As it stands, it looks like they’re both feeling their ages today.

He chances moving to tug a boot off.  It’s a process, but he eventually manages without injurying himself further and when both boots are off and dropped by the pile, he hesitantly reaches for his visor.  He shouldn’t wear it for too long, but he always does.  Especially now.  He still tends to feel somewhat uneasy around Reaper.  Neither fully trusting eachother, though they’d gotten better over the past few months.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on decisions, though.  His body screams for relief, so he unclasps the mask and rests it gently on his jacket.  He straightens slowly, as much as his body will allow.

Tomorrow he’ll have to go out, secure another supply of meds.  Few work on him after SEP, and the ones that do metabolize too quickly.  For Reaper, it’s even worse.  They haven’t found anything that will work on him.

He sighs as he tries not to think about it and carefully eases himself onto the cheap mattress, trying not to disturb Reaper as he squeezes onto his own side of the bed.  He winces at the spring digging into him, shifts uncomfortably before resigning himself.  He occupies himself with massaging his knee and it’s several minutes before his body starts to adjust and his muscles begin to relax slightly.  

It’s several more minutes before Reaper makes a move.  

Jack can’t see clearly, but he can make out the blur of the plumes; can feel the tug and glide of smoke; can sense the effort Gabriel puts in as he pulls himself towards Jack.   

He moves his arm out of the way, leaving his lap open- an invitation which Reaper gladly takes.   Jack waits for him to settle before he dares to touch him.  A calloused hand slides through semi-solid curls, the smokey ends coiling around fingers.  The touch is light and slow at first- a test, to see if he can handle the contact; to see if he still wants it.

Gabe doesn't tell him but the gesture reminds him of home. It makes him think back to all those years ago, head on his Mama’s lap as he sobs, as he tries to process the news of his fathers passing. It makes him think of Jack in their younger years, cradling him, weak and pained from injections. And later, when they're older, when they've fought their fair share, holding him when unwanted memories surface- the hand on his head a small comfort.  It makes him think of Ana and a hangover; her gentle ministrations and scolding tongue.  

It reminds him of when he was human, when he was allowed such luxuries, when he was still loved.

He doesn't tell him, just clings to Jack's free arm like a lifeline, shaking as he drops his head into his lap. 

He hopes that this show of trust, of vulnerability is enough. After all these years, he still has faith that this man, more than anyone, can read him, can figure out what he longs to say and can't bring himself to.

What's left of his body is tensed, a shifting mess- tearing, falling apart, forming anew, while his nerves remain hyperactive, like a million firey needles stabbing into him repetitively. Each sensation is overwhelming, disorienting. He wants to scream, to claw at this traitorous body. A storm of rage, frustration, regret bubbles beneath the surface- spurred on, threatening to consume. 

And yet he's able to endure Jack's ministrations. Truth be told, he almost doesn't want it to end. It's oddly grounding- the sensation and the memories that come with it. 

Sometimes when he's with him, he let's himself remember more than his anger and who he's become. Sometimes he allows himself the indulgence of  hope that there is more left to him, that they can fix their wounded bond, and keep the promises they made.  That it’s not too late.

He lets out a shaky breath, muscles seizing and spasming.

"Breathe.”  The touch is firmer now and Gabe focuses on the pressure. 

"You know,” Jack continues, “It’s okay to hurt and breakdown. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”  

There’s a pause, both in speech and motion.  Then-

“You don't have to hide your pain from me, or your hunger. And you don't need to keep solid if it makes things worse. I think I can handle some smoke." 

He tries to keep his voice light on the last line, but they both know the truth.  Seeing Gabe like this often triggered something in Jack.  

Sometimes there was panic.  This was a state Gabriel was used to handling, at least.  He remembered the way Jack would sometimes freeze up before a speech or an important call, or after a particularly bad mission or a reminder of some incident or simply when the stress became too much; how he would isolate himself in his office or a quiet room where he’d either work himself into a full-blown attack or try to throw himself into work. He remembered the way he tensed at most physical contact, how distant he was when others tried to get close.  

Gabriel was always the one that could break through, get close enough to bring him down, again.  Now it was harder without the trust between them that they once had, but Gabriel still tried as best as he could.

Sometimes there was a surge of anger, and Jack would lash out, run off on some reckless mission that only made sense to him, only to return hours later with a hazy memory and fresh wounds.  Gabriel would have to go through hell and back to convince him to let him tend to them- both of them apparently competing in who could be most stubborn.  

Other times he’d see him fade out, watch him get caught in his damn head, like he was still trapped under rubble that burned and buried.  Gabriel still isn’t sure how to help.

He chooses not to address any of this.  Instead, Reaper hangs on the Soldier’s last line and growls out, “Not everything is about you."

It's harsher than he'd intended and not what he'd wanted to say.

Jack’s eyes shift down.  "You're scared, aren't you?"

"Whatever."

"That's okay."  There’s an unspoken ‘ _Me, too.’_

  


They stay that way for awhile, until Gabe’s half numb and Jack’s hand is feeling too stiff, too fatigued to move.

It’s Reaper who breaks the silence this time.

“So how did the mission go?”  


“Successful.  Only ran into a few agents.  I got the data you wanted and I confirmed Brutelli’s location.  She’ll be in town for the next week.  We’ll wait until you're better before we pay a visit.”

Reaper hums, daring to move enough to look up at the Soldier.

“Patience has never been your virtue when it comes to missions,” he states. “I was always the one to wait, while you barged in, acted without thinking. What changed?”

The corner of Jack’s lips raise in a half smile.  “Maybe you finally rubbed off on me after all these years.”  

His tone becomes more serious. “We’ll see this through together.  No one left behind right?”

Reaper takes a moment to look at him before he shifts to grab his hand. “No one left behind.”

If they were as close as they used to be, Jack would have leaned down and kissed him.  Instead, he squeezes Reaper’s hand gently, then withdraws.

“We can discuss details tomorrow. Try to get some rest. When you’re ready, a meal’s in the other room.”     

Gabe shuts his eyes, hating the way his body yearns for it.  

He wants to protest, to tell Jack not to hunt for him.  But the man has always been stubborn and it would be a waste of energy.  Not to mention a slap to the face.  He knew it was one of the ways Jack was showing he still cared, still trusted him to a degree. 

So Gabriel hums in agreement, mumbles, _‘you, too.’_

A hand hovers above his head before giving a final stroke through his curls. 

He closes his eyes and tries to let go.

\--

Jack waits until the body loses form, Gabe unconcious enough to mostly forfeit control.  Tendrils circle his fingers, brush restlessly against his skin in search for an energy source.

He can’t help the way his body instinctively recoils, feeling agitated, trapped. His own nerves now feel over-stimulated. He had never been able to handle physical contact well. Gabriel had been his one exception and now-

He moves off the bed as quickly as his body will allow, the panic quickly building as the smoke drifts, trying to cling to him for a moment more before he’s thankfully out of reach.

He tries to breathe, tries not to ignore the thudding of his heart, tries to push down the unwanted feelings- stifling in their intensity.  One would think he’d be accustomed to it by now, after so many decades,  but he’d only gotten worse, especially after the explosion.

Jack takes another shuddering breath, pulls on his uniform, eager to leave their cramped hideout, find a distraction.  The weight of the blood-stained jacket on his shoulders and the pulse rifle in his hand is a small comfort as he tries to steel himself, tries to think of what he needs to do, the mission ahead of him.  He figures Gabriel will be awake again by the time he gets back. There was only so long the man could passively control his form.  He would need to feed soon- one way or another.

Jack gathered his resolve.  

No matter how many trips it took, no matter what the cost, he would make sure Reaper regained his strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm so sorry again. I'm still not in a good place and I'm struggling a lot, but I'd really like to get back to writing if I can handle it. Thank you for your patience and support._
> 
> _Also, I hope this fic. came out coherent b/c I wrote this in about seven different sessions, skipping around, while my brain was feeling disconnected half the time. I'm not sure if I got across all I hoped to, but hopefully it makes sense._


End file.
